


the stars are falling

by sapphirestylan



Series: for him. [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Major Character Injury, angsty as fuck, eleanour isnt a thing in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 20:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirestylan/pseuds/sapphirestylan
Summary: Niall and Harry have long since settled into their relationship five years after California, but things are starting to get complicated.





	the stars are falling

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I had a really fun time writing this sequel and I hope you like it. I am trying on increasing the length of my writing but I'm sorry these fics are so short. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

_"_ _Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

_If this be error and upon me proved,_

_I never writ, nor no man ever loved."_

_\- Sonnet 116, Shakespeare._

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Niall feels sick. He feels sick down to his core, his face hot. It reminds him vaguely of the time five years ago when he threw up on the side of the road in the California desert, Harry sitting inside the car and casting him quick, worried glances when he thought he wasn’t looking.

Harry’s sitting beside him now, too, eyebrows scrunched together with concern. The flat is warm, a blanket tucked securely around him on the couch, the fireplace roaring- but he’s still shivering the slightest bit under his clothes. “You don’t have to sit here all day, babe.” Niall mumbles, turning his head to the side to look at him properly.

Harry shakes his head adamantly, flyaway curls dancing wispily out of his haphazard bun. His hair’s much longer, now, when it’s down it curls just past his jaw.

“You’re sick. Don’t want you hacking up a lung while I’m not looking.” Harry presses softly, leaning back on his ankles where he sits kneeled next to the couch. He balances a bowl of steaming soup in his hands, arching his eyebrow for Niall to open his mouth, which he does so reluctantly. He watches him swallow the soup, Niall wincing at the way it burns down his throat.

“‘M not even feeling that bad,” Niall protests. “It’s not even a fever, just a cold. ‘M not incapacitated, you know. And I’ve been spending all my time on this damn couch for three days now.” He sinks back into the couch, head flopping back. “I’m fine, honestly.”

“Nonsense,” Harry murmurs fondly, reaching up and smoothing back his hair from his forehead. “You’re sick and you’ll stay here until you feel better, and that’s that.” His phone buzzes and Harry whips it out, eyes glued to the phone even as he speaks. “You done with the soup?”

Niall nods and tries not to make too much out of the little smile that appears on Harry’s face as he reads the text, and Harry rises, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping around the couch on his way to the kitchen. Their flat is a bit small, still, not a dramatic improvement from the student housing in uni, where they’d only graduated from three years ago. Niall’s got a job, now, working as part of the production team at a music label down in London.

And Harry, well. He had to give up the whole photography stint after a year or so after graduating, with his friend Matt unable to help him get anywhere that brought a paycheck home. He didn’t double-major for nothing, though, said he always knew it was inevitable- he writes for a arts magazine, now. It’s clear he doesn’t enjoy his job as much as he could, and that breaks Niall’s heart.

But Harry continues his hobby of taking pictures of Niall, hangs polaroids of him on the bedroom wall. It makes his heart swell even after all this time, when Harry brings his camera down and grins at him, dimples popping.

The faint smell of warm soup hangs in the air, along with the smell of cinnamon from Harry and the green tea he was drinking. He shifts under the blanket, heat prickling uncomfortably on his skin. It’s actually possible he might have a fever, with the way he’s sweating and shivering.

“I’m, uh.” Harry starts distractedly, his fingers flying across the screen of his phone. “I’m using the loo, shout if you need anything.” He calls before shuffling down the hallway, leaving Niall alone to his thoughts, cold settling in his bones despite the temperature he’s running.

He still vividly remembers moving in three years ago. _Three years._ God, it’s felt like ages since that day, the sound of cardboard boxes scraping walls filling his ears as he relives the memory.

Zayn had helped them lug their stuff up the cold stairwell, shivering and complaining the entire time. Niall had spent extra time taking out his picture frames, smiling down at the glass and tapping at his family's faces, distractedly telling Harry a story from when he was a kid, telling him about what Theo's been up to these days. He'd missed home at the moment, he remembers, so much- missed his family. Harry had come up behind him as if he knew and hugged him around the waist, chin digging into his shoulder while he asked if he was okay- and Niall nodded yes, because he _was_ going to be okay as long as he had Harry with him.

And Harry just couldn’t stop beaming. When they were dragging in their tattered boxes and stacked Harry’s giant collection of books into the shelves till his head was sore from sorting everything alphabetically. Just kept smiling, the dimples never leaving his face. Not even when he knocked a vase to the floor and cut his finger trying to clean it up, just looked at Niall with shining eyes even as he watched him wrap a plaster around his finger. _We’re finally doing it,_ he breathed, _moving in._

Niall reminded him that they’d already been living together for four years, and Harry would laugh his breathless little laugh and say this was _different_. Didn’t say how, just. Different.

“Ni?”

He’s jerked back to the present by Harry’s tentative voice. He must have come back, already. His boyfriend leans over the back of the couch, the phone in his hand continuing to buzz insistently. “Look, I’m gonna text Nick and tell him we can’t make it tonight.”

“But it’s his birthday,” Niall says, surprised. “Can’t miss it like that, we told him ages ago we’d come.”

“You can’t, Niall, you’re sick.”

“I’m _not_ , Harry, it’s not a big deal.” Niall groans, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the light. “And I really want to go. Feel like I’ve been cooped up in here for ages.”

Harry lets out a frustrated snort, his brows knit together. “We’ll see.” He says, a decision not yet made but halfway there.

Niall nods, gaze fluttering down the span of Harry’s arms to stare at the dark ink marking it.

Harry crouches down then, kneeling beside the couch and putting his hands on either side of Niall’s face, leaning forward to kiss him- but Niall leans back abruptly. “You’ll get sick,” He splutters, laughing at Harry’s disappointed pout.

“I thought you said you weren’t,” Harry mumbles, leaning back in. Niall lets him this time, his mind going blank as their lips meet, warm and soft. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of kissing Harry, never get over the way he makes his heart pound in his chest. Harry reaches a hand up to the back of his head, keeping him still as he dots kisses all over his face, one on his forehead, then the tip of his nose, his chin. Niall just closes his eyes, letting the warmth spread through his body till he feels rosy all over, something fluttering in his chest when Harry pulls away and smiles dopily.

“Love you, Ni.” He murmurs, pressing another light kiss to his lips.

“Love you too.” Niall manages faintly, staring down into those green eyes that catch the morning sunlight in just the right way.

Harry’s phone vibrates again in his pocket, and Harry pulls away, fishing it out and staring at it. Niall sighs, flopping back. He’s bloody glued to it nowadays. “Who’re you texting?”

“Oh, no one.” Harry says, glancing up at him quickly. “Just Louis.”

“Oh.” Niall hums, the hint of suspicion lingering in his head. _Louis_.

“Look-” Harry begins, shoving his phone in the back of his jeans. “Are you sure you’ll be alright, going? Nick can deal without us for one night, you know.”

“I know.” Niall says firmly. “I want to go.” It’s mostly because he really does want to get out of the flat, but partly because he knows Louis will be there- but he’d never admit it.

“Okay, if you’re sure. And we won’t be staying out very late, either, make sure you get a proper recovery.” Harry insists, eyes wide and serious. Niall smirks at that, he’s always found Harry’s concern amusing, if a bit overwhelming. He knows it’s just second nature, just wants to make sure he’s alright, all the time.

Especially after that night.

\---

_The minute Harry opens the door he can tell something is wrong. It’s only a few days before their last day of university, everyone’s buzzing with excitement and the prospect of the future before them. And he and Niall, after dating for almost a year now, are preparing to move into their own flat._

_But the dorm is too quiet. Weak, grey sunlight filters in through the window while Harry drops his bag on the couch, standing still and cocking his head as if it’ll help him hear something._

_“Niall?” He calls tentatively. It’s strange to see no Zayn, no Louis fucking about on the couch as usual, empty packets of crisps scattered about them. It’s stranger not to see Niall waiting there for him to come home._

_He pauses in front of Niall’s room, hand resting on the doorknob before pushing it open, steeling himself._

_Niall sits on his bed, facing away from him. The lights are off and he’s leaning his head on his hands, elbows digging into the pale skin of his thighs. He can see the faint glint of his phone on the bed beside him, and he can hear the slow, ragged breaths Niall’s taking._

_“Niall?” He repeats, worry edging his voice. He closes the door behind him, moving towards the bed like his body’s on autopilot._

_Niall doesn’t say anything, just lets Harry sit down gingerly beside him. It’s clear he’s been crying, and for a long time, now- his skin looks dry from the tears tracking down, his eyes puffy and bloodshot. His hair is a mess, too, probably from tugging at it the way he does when he gets frustrated or nervous._

_“Babe, what’s wrong?” He tries again, voice gentle. Niall turns towards him, looking at him properly for the first time. He’s got a blank look in his eyes, one that sends a chill racing down Harry’s spine. He knows Niall tends to shut down when he’s emotional, knows it from the few arguments they’ve had, but this is different._

_“I talked to my parents.” Niall says flatly, offering no further explanation._

_“About?”_

_Niall lets out a long sigh. “I told them, Harry.” He says, voice cracking on his name- the first hint of emotion he’s let creep into his voice. “They- they wanted to know if I had a plan for where I was gonna go after next week, after uni ends, if I was gonna come home for a bit. Told them I was moving in with you.” Niall mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face while he stares down at the floor._

_“They were okay with it, and it was fine.” Niall continues, straightening up a bit. “It was fine, but then they started asking me if- if I had a girlfriend, and all that shit. You know how my mum is, always trying to set me up. And I got- frustrated with all of it, I guess,” Niall says, pushing a shaking hand through his hair._

_Harry’s heart jumps in his chest, a pang of intense regret making his chest ache. He should have been here- he planned on being here when Niall told his parents, even if it was just over the phone, because being with him would have_ helped _him. His heart hurts, thinking about Niall alone in his room, face pale and palms sweaty as he talks to his parents._

_He should have been there._

_He shifts closer till they sit side by side, no space between them, wrapping an arm around his waist and squeezing slightly. “And it just kind of- kind of came out, and I couldn’t take it back, and it was so awful, Harry. So, so awful. They were silent for a long time, and then dad said something about not being his son, not being the person he thought I was. Disappointed, he said.” Niall lets out a dry laugh, the sound falling flat in the empty space. His eyes are still dull, grayish. Sad._

_“And then they hung up.” Niall whispers, looking at Harry, his eyes shining with tears. “I can’t get that fucking dial tone out of my head, can’t stop thinking-” He snaps his mouth shut, and Harry’s heart wrenches in his chest. Niall sniffs, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Can’t stop thinking that maybe...maybe they’re right.”_

_Harry freezes, something in his ears buzzing faintly. “No,” He manages, voice firm. “They’re not right. You aren’t a disappointment, you aren’t a bad person, Niall. Never think that.” He says, and Niall glances at him. “Don’t think that.”_

_“Then why are they mad at me for being in love with you?” Niall whispers, something in his voice taking on a pleading tone._

_Harry sighs, staring into Niall’s eyes. “They don’t understand, I guess.” He says vaguely, because he doesn’t have an answer._

_He’s never gone through what Niall’s gone through- not to the same extent, at least. His mum and stepdad, and Gemma, had always been supportive from day one. But his real dad, he just...wasn’t. Called him a name Harry doesn’t dwell too much on, said he was sinning and all that shit. But it never mattered to him, because he didn’t care about Des in the first place- never really thought of him as a proper father._

_But Niall, who still loves his parents, who still trusts them and cares about what they think- that’s different. Everything means more coming from someone you love._

_“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Harry whispers, pressing his forehead to Niall’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. Hot tears prick at the back of his eyes, and he blows a long breath out of his mouth. “Should’ve been there, with you. I’m sorry.” He feels more than sees Niall shake his head, voice raw as he speaks._

_“No, it’s not your fault, Harry. You didn’t know.” He murmurs, and Harry hums softly against his skin, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek before resting his head on his shoulder._

_“Are you gonna be okay?” Harry mumbles, his lips moving against Niall’s skin._

_Another heavy sigh leaves Niall’s chest as he presses a kiss into Harry’s hair, eyes falling shut. “Yeah. I’m gonna be okay.”_

_Harry doesn’t know what more to say, really, but he knows that just sitting here with him means more to Niall than any words could. Niall puts his hand on top of the one Harry’s got on his waist, the skin of his palm warm to the touch, grounding himself for a moment. Harry seems to be the only thing in the room that’s steady, the only thing he’s been sure of from the start._

_Harry loves him, and he loves him back. It’s simple, and it’s perfect, and he’s not going to let the things his parents think ruin that for either of them. He’s not._

\---

Niall watches Harry over at the bar, where he’s leaning against the counter with a sticky drink in his hand. Louis is standing next to him, an impish grin on his face as he leans up on his toes to whisper something in Harry’s ear. Harry pulls away quickly, slapping his arm playfully, and Niall tears his attention away- he can’t be seen staring at him like a hawk.

Nick is going on about whatever shit he’s been getting up to in the last month, and Niall finds himself temporarily distracted, caught up in the story. He does trust Harry, of course, knows Harry would never cheat on him, never even consider the idea and especially not with _Louis_ \- but he’s feeling unusually snappish today. Maybe it’s the fact that Harry’s been stuck to his phone for the past week, talking to Louis. Maybe it’s the fact that he left Niall’s side the minute he saw him off with Nick, went straight to find him and started babbling enthusiastically to him. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s giggling his fucking face off, stumbling tipsily and staring at _Louis_. And not Niall.

God, he knows it’s stupid and he knows he’s just cranky because he’s still sick and he should trust Harry more than this, but it’s getting on his nerves. He gets up with a mumbled excuse to Nick, saying he’s off to the bathroom. He finds himself moving towards Harry, his hands shoved purposefully in his pockets and his jaw clenched.

Harry is leaning down and talking into Louis’ ear, his familiar grin plastered on his face.

“Hey,” He says loudly, and their conversation cuts off instantly, Harry jumping about three feet into the air. His face switches from surprise to forced impassiveness as he recognizes Niall standing in front of him. He’s still obviously drunk though, his eyes glazed and a tiny smirk on his lips.

Louis nods at Niall, glancing at Harry and then back at him before taking a sip of his drink, eyebrows arching high on his forehead. “Well,” He says, throwing Harry a quick grin, “I’ll just leave you to it, then.” He disappears off into the crowd, and Niall watches him go before he snaps his attention back to Harry.

“So,” He starts, struggling to keep his voice even. “What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” Harry slurs, narrowing his eyes as he attempts to keep Niall in focus.

“You two stopped talking as soon as I got here.”

“Oh!” Harry says, seeming genuinely surprised. “That was...nothing.”

“Didn’t seem like nothing.”

Harry frowns, lips curving in a pout. “Look, Niall, I don’t know what you’re on about, but you’re being a bit of a party pooper here.”

“Me?” Niall barks incredulously, drawing the attention of the people around them. A dark flush rises on his cheeks as he ducks his head, lowering his voice. “I’m ruining your mood, is it? Look, I’m not the one who got dragged here only for you to go and be with Louis the whole damn time.”

“Dragged?’ Harry laughs humorlessly, the smirk now wiped off his face. “You _wanted_ to come, practically begged to because you felt like you were ‘trapped’ in the bloody flat with me for three days.”

“Yeah, and it’s a good fucking thing I came.” Niall growls back, anger bubbling in his chest. “Fuck knows what you two would’ve done if I wasn’t.”

“Wait,” Harry says sharply. “This is about Louis?”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Got ourselves a proper genius here.” He says drily. “Yes, it’s about Louis.”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but-”

“I’m not here to argue about what I did or didn’t see, Harry.” Niall snaps. “I’m leaving. You can stay here if you want, but I’m going home.”

“You know what?” Harry asks, his voice rising, brows knit together. “If you can’t even trust me around your own best friend, then fine. Go home already.”

“I will.” Niall fires back, spinning on his heel and pushing his way through the crowd and getting a few concerned glances as he does so. He wonders just how red his face is right now. He stops to say goodbye to Nick on his way out, owes him that much. If he suspects something is off, which he probably does considering the way he glances confusedly between Harry and him, he doesn’t say anything about it. Just tells him to get home safe, call a cab, don’t walk.

Niall nods, his mind still buzzing with anger. He couldn’t have misread the way Harry was whispering to Louis, he knows there’s something going on, he just doesn’t know what.

His skin continues to prickle with heat as he steps out into the rush of cool night air, his eyes watering as the wind drags against his skin. Well, he thinks it’s because of the wind. Could be because he can’t forget the way Harry looked at him as he turned and left him standing there, his eyes hard and hurt at the same time.

By the time he gets to the crosswalk, he can’t see through his tears. He reaches up and wipes at his eyes, his body on autopilot as he steps off the sidewalk to cross the street- barely registering the panicked scream of  “ _no, STOP!_ ” before a car slams into him and his vision goes black.

\---

Harry wants the noise to stop. He just wants it to be quiet, completely silent- he doesn’t want the muffled screams and the panicked whispers and the shrill sirens ringing in his ears as the back of the ambulance slams shut and they start moving, doesn’t want Niall lying in the stretcher next to him looking so, so pale. He doesn’t want any of it.

He’s not even crying, he realizes, as he reaches up to touch his face. He feels numb all over, a strange buzz in his trembling hands as he looks down at them, then back up at Niall. Niall’s eyes are closed, and Harry briefly- for a terrifying, freezing moment- wonders if he’ll ever see the familiar blue of them again. He shakes the thought out of his head almost instantly, doesn’t want to linger on the fear that’s slowly creeping towards the front of his mind.

He knows he’ll never get that image out of his head, that’s the only thing he’s sure of right now. Niall- lying broken on the pavement, a screaming mass of people crowding him, someone bending down beside him to check for a pulse. He felt like the ground underneath him was splitting underneath him, his entire world was crumbling and shattering around him where he stood.

Blood and bits of gravel from the concrete were stuck on Niall’s cheek, his blue eyes fluttering open and shut every few seconds. Harry had pushed through the crowd, a strangled cry of Niall’s name caught in his throat as he sank down to his knees next to him, strangers’ hands grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him away as the paramedics arrived.

 _“He’s my boyfriend,”_ He yelled, wrenching himself free and scrambling in the ambulance after they gave him a rushed nod. “ _I need to be with him.”_

It takes what seems like an eternity for them to arrive at the hospital, the doors being flung open and the stretcher pulled out instantly. Harry stumbles to his feet and jumps down after them, a bit dizzy from rising so suddenly. He’s rushed through the entrance and along spotless white corridors, running to keep up with the nurses wheeling Niall along. He thinks he sees Niall’s eyes open once, his lips parting as he spots Harry- but the next instant he’s told he can’t follow them into the emergency room, that he’ll have to wait till the emergency procedures are over.

A dark-haired nurse leads him into the waiting room, gives him instructions to wait until he’s called in, which could all night and that he can go home if he wants. She gives him one last apologetic glance, as if she knows how much it hurts him to be away from Niall when he’s like this- and then leaves, and Harry’s left sitting alone in the waiting room.

He glances around, barely registering the potted plants and the magazine rack next to him. The lights overhead are blinding, and he blinks away the spots in his eyes- and then he notices the magazine at the very front of the stack: _Golf Digest._

He stares at the cover, blinking rapidly. _Niall would read that,_ he thinks, and the next thing he knows sobbing into his hands.

He doesn’t know how bad Niall’s injuries are and he doesn’t know if he’s going to make it out alright or if he’ll even wake up tomorrow, and that knowledge- or lack of- hurts worse than any physical injury he could possibly obtain. It hits him suddenly that Niall wouldn’t have been hurt at all if he hadn’t told him to leave, had kept him with him in the pub and explained everything to him the way he should have.

The feeling of guilt seems to fill up his lungs, making it harder to breathe as he wipes away the tears rolling down his cheeks.  

And then Harry remembers the way they’d talked in the pub, snapping at each other and Niall yelling about him and Louis. How Niall had walked out, how Harry had _told him to leave._ How, if Niall’s gone, he’ll never get a chance to explain, to apologize. Never get to tell him he loves him again.

And although Niall is only a room or two away, he’s never felt so far.

\---

Niall is dreaming. At least, he thinks so. He vaguely recognizes his surroundings- he’s in a car, and the landscape passing by is dry and barren, a vast blue sky looming above them. He turns to find Harry driving, his hair significantly shorter and his eyes fixed firmly on the road, one hand resting on the wheel. There’s a song playing, in the background- he can’t figure out where it’s coming from, because the radio isn’t on. _Thunder only happens when it’s raining,_ Harry croons, a happy smile on his lips.

It hits him with a jolt, then- he’s not dreaming, he’s reliving a _memory_.

He’s in the middle of the California desert, and by the way Harry’s stealing glances at him when he thinks he’s not looking, they’re probably on their way to his photography project, which means they haven’t admitted their feelings yet. Haven’t had their first kiss, Harry hasn’t told him he’s in love with him.

It’s strange, not to be able to reach out and take Harry’s hand and to have Harry grin at him till the tips of his ears turn pink.

And then something even stranger happens. Harry stops singing, starts talking, but the words that come out of his mouth don’t match what he should be saying.

Because should be talking about the weather or how hot it is or how this is his favorite Fleetwood Mac song. But he’s not. He’s-

“Niall, please, please be okay...Oh god, Niall, please wake up-”

Dream-Harry turns and grins at him even as he begs, and the sight is so unnerving that Niall looks away instantly, his heart thudding faintly in his chest. Out of the corner of his eyes he can see that Harry is still grinning easily, his voice switching back to it’s slow drawl as he sings along to the song. It’s apparent now that this is no memory, only a twisted dream made up of some fragmented bit of something that really happened. _It’s not real,_ only it has to be.

Because he knows vaguely, now, his brain feeling fuzzy as he struggles to remember. The car, slamming into his side, vicious pain slicing through his entire body as he hits the ground, screams echoing in his ears as the people around him react only a heartbeat later.

The dream-Harry is staring at him, a curious expression on his face. His lips are still curved up in a smile, and his eyes are as warm as he remembers, but he’s the words he’s saying are trembling in the air between them, broken up in-between with sharp inhales and stuttering sobs.

And then, he sees a flash of something else cutting through the strange dream- clean white walls and the squeak of wheels against the floor, and then a glimpse of tanned skin and wide green eyes, a lock of curly hair dancing in and out of his vision before a male voice pipes up.

“You can’t come in, sir, you’ll have to wait here.”

He hears a familiar voice protest, “Please-”

“Barbara can show you to the waiting room.” And then he knows Harry’s gone- can’t see him leave, but he can feel that he’s not near him anymore.

And then everything goes black again.

\---

One broken arm, a rainbow of bruises running the length of his hip and thigh, a concussion, and a scraped up face from hitting the street.

Those are the injuries the nurse rattles off as she stands next to his hospital bed. His eyes are still closed, and he guesses she thinks he’s still asleep because she only addresses the other person in the room as she lists the procedures and how long he’ll have to stay.

Three days. He has to stay three days, for them to run a plethora of tests Niall can’t remember the names of and for his bones to heal and for them to check if there’s any permanent brain damage. _Shit._

He knew it was serious, knew it was going to be from the moment he hit the street, but the reality of it is more than a little overwhelming. The nurse speaks again, quietly tells Harry that he’s lucky his hip didn’t fracture on impact.

Niall doesn’t know how long he’s been out for, just that his entire body is sore all over and there’s a red-hot pain shooting through his side. He hears shuffled footsteps leaving the room, and then quiet.

He opens his eyes. The room is white, in stark contrast to the blue and red spots that flash behind his eyelids when he blinks. He feels as if he’s going to throw up, bile rising in the back of his throat. Next to him, Harry sits in a plastic white chair, his head in his hands.

Niall blinks again, opening his mouth and taking a rasping breath as pain sparks through his right leg again. Harry's head pops up at the noise, and Niall is startled by how awful he looks. His skin is pale, eyes dark and puffy from crying.

"Niall," Harry breathes, looking as if it physically hurts him to not leap up and hug him. "You're-" He cuts himself off abruptly, looking like he wants to say something different. “You’re awake.”

Niall doesn’t say anything, just gazes blankly at him.

“Niall, god, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have been with you, it’s my fault,” Harry rambles, tears suddenly making his eyes glisten in the harsh light.

As if a switch has been flipped, a rush of emotion hits him head on and he stares at Harry like he’s only just seeing him. He shakes his head as best he can, reaching out a sore hand. Harry takes it in his own, gently intertwining their fingers and staring at their joined hands. “Not your fault.” He croaks, voice raw, tears springing to his own eyes. “It’s not your fault, H.”

“I thought you were dead,” He says softly, as if Niall had never spoken, his voice breaking severely. “I came out less than a minute after you left, and all I saw was this mass of people screaming and they were standing there and then I saw you on the pavement and I,” Harry sucks in a sharp breath, brushing away his tears with the back of his hand. “I thought you were gone and the last thing I would have told you was to _leave_.”

Niall remembers his dream, how Harry’s voice had been so desperate and broken but his face entirely calm- happy, in fact, even in the hundred degree weather, just to be sitting next to Niall.

“Harry-”

“I thought you were dead, Niall, and then they wouldn’t let me in the room with you, and-” His voice cuts off, eyes dropping as he inhales raggedly. “Watch where you’re going next time, yeah?” He says it with a weak smile, but it has none of it’s usual warmth. He’s probably reliving the moment in his head, but if he didn’t know any better he’d say he was watching Harry in real time- his eyes are dark, hollow, glazed over with fear.

Niall just nods lamely, wishing he could say more, wishing he could say _anything_ to make him feel better.

The room falls quiet again. Niall watches as Harry takes his hand and brings it up to his mouth, pressing his mouth to his knuckles and closing his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry, Niall,” He whispers, pausing. His eyes flicker darkly. “Wish it was me in that bed.”

“Come on, Harry, don’t say stuff like that.” Niall reaches out and pushes the hair away from his forehead, fingers gentle.

“But it’s true.” He replies instantly, staring up at him. “If there was a way it could happen again, if I had a choice, I’d switch you out for me in a heartbeat.”

Niall falls silent, staring at the boy at his bedside, who loves him more than he thought possible. “I love you.”

Harry just smiles. Pale, morning sunlight washes through the window, and the room seems to glow; his heart almost beats out of his chest as he gazes at him.

“Niall, the whole thing with Louis, I swear,” He says suddenly, eyes widening. “I swear nothing was going on-”

“I know, Harry. I should’ve trusted you more than that, I was just being a prick.” Niall says quickly, a dull burn in his skull as he shifts a little in the bed.

“But I want to explain, Ni. I owe you that much.”

Niall sighs, uneasiness settling in his bones. Harry shouldn’t _need_ to explain, not when this mess is Niall’s fault and he shouldn’t have overreacted the way he did. “Okay. Explain.”

Harry cracks the hint of a smile, tears still sliding down his cheeks. “I was gonna ask you to marry me.”

Wait _. What?_

“You- you what now?” He chokes out, heart slamming in his chest, the words ricocheting around in his skull. _I was gonna ask you to marry me._ He’s in proper shock, the breath sucked out of his lungs as tries to make sure he heard Harry correctly.

“That’s why I was talking to Louis so much. I was gonna propose and I wanted it to be really special, for you,” Harry says, a laugh spilling out. “We were just planning it. I’m sorry if it looked like something else, but that’s what it was.”  

Niall only manages a surprised huff, barely noticing the pain in his ribs as he does so. “You were- fuck, Harry,” He says breathlessly, the first tear coming down- whether it’s a happy one or not he doesn’t know. “You’ve proper ruined it now, haven’t you?” He jokes- but the guilt is front and center in his mind. Here he was thinking Harry was having a bloody affair when he was only trying to _propose_ to him.

Harry just smirks, his hair falling down over his forehead. “Yeah, I guess so. Louis is going to shit himself when I tell him all of it was for nothing.” He hesitates a second, and Niall wheezes out a laugh, his chest aching.

“I mean, it is ruined, and I guess you know now.” Harry muses, resting his chin in the heel of his hand. “I, um, I don’t have the ring on me or anything or I would do it properly…” Harry reaches up to run his hand through his hair and Niall’s breath hitches in his throat at his implication.

“But there’s really no point in waiting any longer. So would you? Marry me, I mean.” Harry stammers, chewing on his lip.

Niall waits a heartbeat, a slow grin spreading over his face. “Yeah,” He says finally, a laugh bubbling in his chest when Harry beams at him. “Yeah, I will.” Harry leans over the bed and plants a delicate kiss on his lips, giggling when Niall brings his hands up to pull him closer and kiss him harder. His lips are slick and warm against Niall’s, and he can nearly taste the salt from the tears he’d shed earlier. Harry swipes at his lower lip, sighing contentedly into his mouth.

“I love you.” Harry whispers, his lips brushing against Niall’s as he does so.

“Love you more.”  

He pulls away after what seems like forever, pushing back at Harry’s chest with one hand and grinning at the way he moves to chase his lips. Harry sits his arse back down in the chair, scooting it closer to the bed and staring at him with sudden seriousness in his eyes.

“Oh, I don’t know if you’ve heard,” Harry says, thumb brushing absently over the back of his hand. “But you’re gonna be stuck in here for a couple days while they fix you up.”

“I know,” Niall sighs, resting his head back on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m already sick of this place.”

“Me too.” Harry says, and Niall blinks in realization. He must have stayed next to him the whole night, and just the thought is enough to warm his heart and wrench it out of his chest simultaneously, imagining a crying Harry huddled in the chair next to his bed, the room dark. No company except the beeping machines.

“Where’s Nick and everybody? Do they know?” He asks suddenly, tearing his attention away from the spots on the ceiling.

Harry nods, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his palms against his jeans. “Louis and Liam came by as soon as we were allowed in, Zayn came a little later while you were still asleep. Nick is going to drop by this afternoon if he can, to see you. And your parents-”

Niall looks away from him quickly, eyes fixing on the yellow flowers on the table next to him that he hadn’t noticed before.

“I called them and told them what happened.” Harry glances up at Niall, seeing his troubled expression, and shakes his head. “They didn’t say anything- about _us,_ just wanted to know you were okay and the soonest that you could come up and visit them.”

“I’ll call them later.” Niall mutters as the nurse walks back into the room, her feet padding against the tiled floor.

“Mr. Styles?” She says, voice sweet. “You’ll have to leave during the tests, we’ll let you know as soon as we’re done and then both of you can leave.”

Harry nods briskly, turning to Niall and leaning over quickly to press a kiss against his cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” He breathes, and then leaves with a polite nod to the nurse.

The nurse busies herself with some papers in the file she carries in her hand once he’s gone, the remnant of a smile still on her face. “Boyfriend?”

Niall glances at her, taking a moment to register what she’d asked. “Oh, no,” He says, and grins. “Fiancé.”

\---

When Niall wakes up, he almost doesn’t recognize where he is- before he recognizes the window where afternoon sunshine is pouring through, the collection of framed photographs on the dresser. He’s home.

The hospital was an unpleasant affair to say the least- tubes shoved every which where to run tests, scans and evaluations and spending all day in bed, neck stiff as Harry sits next to him and babbles away in an effort to keep him entertained.

And the drive back was a blur- he nearly fell asleep getting out of the car- because although he’d spent most of the previous night out cold, he was dead tired. Harry must have had to practically carry him up the stairs and into the flat, in the state he was in.

He’s sleeping next to him, at the moment, chest rising up and down steadily. His hair’s a mess, flopping loosely out of the tiny bun it was previously in and splaying out over the pillow. Niall sinks back against his own pillow, a sigh leaving his chest as he turns his head to the side to look at his- God, his _fiancé_. Just the thought, just the word echoing in his head is enough to make his cheeks warm, pulling the duvet tighter around himself as a pleased smile appears on his lips.

Harry’s going to be his _husband_ , he thinks to himself, now grinning uncontrollably. He doesn’t exactly know why the thought has him so excited- he always knew they were going to get married at some point, they were far too serious for them to fall apart at any time soon. It was always just a blip in the future, a formality. A good sort of formality, but still- nothing he didn’t know was coming.

But now, thinking about the way Harry had blushed when asking him that first day at the hospital, looking so awkward and nervous without a ring. The way Niall’s chest had felt watching him, tight and warm and his heart thrumming away. _The ring._ Harry still hasn’t had a chance to give it to him.

“Harry,” He whispers, his voice scratchy. His head is beginning to ache- probably from his concussion, maybe from the way the sunlight is hitting him square in the eyes. “Harry.”

Harry’s eyes flash open almost instantly after his second try and he startles, jerking back a little. “Christ, H.”

“What?” He slurs sleepily, reaching up to rub at his face. His eyes widen after a moment. “Oh, fuck- is something hurting? Your head?”

Niall shakes his head no, even though his it _is_ hurting, just a little. “No, no, I just- I just remembered you haven’t-” He sighs, frustrated with his own blubbering. “The ring.”

Harry eyes light up instantly, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Oh, right!” He exclaims softly, throwing off the covers almost immediately and rolling out of bed. Niall moves to do the same, but Harry pats his arm on the way out of the room. “No, you stay here. Don’t want to hurt yourself, do you?”

Niall just flops back into the mattress, struggling to keep the smile on his face contained as Harry bumps into the wall on the way out, swearing softly under his breath.

Moments later, he reappears, the skin of his stomach glowing and tanned under the dark ink marked there. His eyes glint with excitement; he’s holding a velvet box that looks so tiny in his hands. Niall pushes himself up to sit leaning against the headboard, running a hand through his hair and making it stand upright. Harry crawls onto the mattress, thumb rubbing over the box and smiling up at him in a way that makes his heart legitimately flutter.

“Well, I already asked you and all,” Harry surmises, flipping open the box and plucking out the ring. It’s a band of plain silver, and there’s something he can’t quite read that’s engraved on the inside of it. “So I guess this is all that’s left, right?”

Niall hums faintly, a smile twitching at his lips as Harry shifts forward, settling in the space between his thighs while being careful not to touch his bruises. He takes Niall’s hand in his, ready to slip it on- but Niall stops him abruptly.

“What’s it got written here?” He asks rhetorically, taking the ring from Harry’s fingers and tilting it the right way so he can see. Two words are engraved there, and they make Niall’s heart jump.

_We fit._

He laughs softly, wonderingly, remembering that night after they’d first slept together all those years ago, Harry sleepy and voice still sounding fucked as he asked if he wanted to be the big spoon or the little one.

“ _Big spoon.”_

 _“Little spoon.”_ And then after a moment’s silence, Harry’s amused huff, his warm breath blowing across the back of Niall’s neck as they shifted around in the bed, the stench of sex still hanging in the air. “ _We fit!”_

And the fact that Harry _remembered_ that stupid little moment, that he remembered the things they’d said to each other even in their post-sex haze- means the world to him.

Harry grins at him now, taking the ring from Niall and slipping it onto his fourth finger. Niall tilts his hand, admiring the way it glints as Harry grins broadly, his smile nearly outshining the way the ring catches the light. “I’ve got a matching one, says the same thing on it.” Harry says, leaning back and sitting on his ankles.

Niall beams, sitting up straight and leaning in to kiss Harry hard, their lips slotting together and his hand firm on the back of his neck, fingertips tangled in his hair. For a minute there’s nothing but the warmth of the sun filtering through the room and the wet shift of Harry’s lips against his, and Niall wishes he could stay like this forever. And then, with a pleasant jolt, he realizes he can.

They’ve got all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
